Chapter 7 Blood on His Shoulder
The day Xiao Huai An was assassinated, I was copying Buddhist scriptures for Mother.
The two characters "compassion" had just landed on the xuan paper when I heard the clash of metal from the front courtyard.
When I ran out, I saw three men in black raising poisoned daggers and lunging at Xiao Huai An. Behind him were the unarmed Grand Tutor and several old ministers.
In that instant I could not move.
I saw the lead assassin's wrist flip. The dagger's cold light pointed straight at Xiao Huai An's back.
"Watch out!"
I threw myself forward almost on instinct, but Xiao Huai An yanked me aside hard.
In the instant he turned and blocked in front of me, the dagger had already sunk into his left shoulder. Black beads of blood rolled down the silver-white arrowhead.
"Seize them!" He covered the wound and growled low.
When the imperial guards swarmed up, I supported his swaying body and only then found his knuckles digging hard into my arm.
"Why block for me?" He leaned on my shoulder. Warm blood soaked through my lapel.
I looked at his face, pale as paper, and suddenly could not speak.
Those warnings that had circled in my heart a thousand times—
"Stay far from him."
"Preserve the Wen Clan."
—were all blown apart now by his warm breath.
His blood mixed with his body heat and seeped into the seams of my bones. It choked me worse than the cold of the snowfield in the last life.